


Sealed lips. Tied hands.

by sternchencas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, DCBB 2014, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, F/F, Friendship, M/M, Pudding, emotional harassment by a teacher, speaking disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2603543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternchencas/pseuds/sternchencas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester doesn't look forward to his first day of school, but it's not because of your usual teenager problems. He would be glad if he had to deal with dates, grades and rumors about his love life. Instead, he struggles even to communicate. In a world where everyone talks in sign language, his hands are tied. He's a happer. One of those weird people who have a hard time figuring out what others say, and can't express what they want to tell. But one good deed might save him because he helps Castiel Novak. A boy who might be just as different and weird as Dean. A boy who understands even when Dean's lips are sealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sealed lips. Tied hands.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spnblargh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnblargh/gifts).



> This is my first time writing for the dcbb challenge and I'm very glad I did although I wanted to make it a big bang, and not just this tiny story. But who has the time? ;)
> 
> Kudos!!! to [Amber](http://moriarty-grotto.tumblr.com/) who took my weird mass of text and made a readable story out of it. I bow to you!
> 
> A big thank you to [Cloud](http://queernatural.tumblr.com/) for saving my ass with wonderful art and the extra effort to make a beautiful banner as well. Check it out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/DeanCasBigBang2014/works/2604089). I love it! :)
> 
> Little sidenotes:  
> \- English is not my first language, but I did my best. Any mistakes left are solely mine.  
> \- The story is more about friendship than actual love (so far).  
> \- I love anyone to death who finds the time to leave just the tiniest of comment.

 

Castiel takes a deep breath as he enters the school and can't help but smile a little, imagining what the other students might think of it. It doesn't smell particularly good; it's an odd combination of metal and perfumes mixed with paper, old carpet, chalk and sometimes food (depending on how far away from the cafeteria one gets) and of course, farts. As per first day back tradition, a few of the members of the football team sprayed the halls with something smelling of rotten eggs and a skunk that's been dead for half a year.

Still, Castiel loves it. For him everything reeks of knowledge and besides, there are only so many summer days you can spend with reading and learning on your own. He's finally back in the place where he has access to people who have studied their different crafts. People who can teach and guide him when he needs help, and challenge him to dive even further into particular wells of his mind. He kisses two fingers and raises his hand in a little salute to this perfect place. Whatever awaits him here this year, it can only be good.

It doesn't take long for a few of his classmates to prove him wrong. For example, Fergus Roderick McLeod, who still tries to establish the nickname "Crowley" for himself, is currently positioning himself in front of Castiel and starts gesturing in his overly cocky demeanor. "Oh sweetheart, I missed you too, but a simple hello would have been enough."

Castiel knows he should ignore him like he normally does but he wants to make sure Crowley doesn't get the wrong idea. Unlike Crowley his way of signing is precise and in this case he tries to fine tune it, even more, sharpening it down to be as quick and direct as he can. He only wants to get a message across, not get involved with Crowley in any way. "My greeting was meant for the school, not you, Fergus."

Crowley flinches at the name but just keeps grinning at him. "I'm part of the school, so technically, it was for me."

Castiel doesn't bother giving an actual answer to Crowley's nonsense and just shakes his head before moving on. He wants to find his locker before class and put a few books away. He might love them, but that love is born out of interest for reading the contents, skimming his fingers over the pages, and enjoying the smell of paper - carrying them around has no part in it.

So far in his high school career, Castiel has lucked out in the locker department, but when he finally gets to his assigned space, he realizes that this year he's one of the unfortunate people with a - as the entire school prefers to call it - shit locker. There's a huge dent in the middle of it, which he doesn't want to know the story behind, and even worse, it's stuck. He knows the combination is right, because it doesn't seem to be locked, but the door just doesn't move.

Castiel checks his clock, grateful he had gotten there early, and began musing whether he should go to the office and ask for another locker or not when there's a tap on his shoulder. He's surprised when he turns around and doesn't know the guy behind him; he isn't the type of person to attract strangers. Before he can think about it, the boy in front of him signs a few incoherent words. "Mine. Last year. Sometimes stuck."

Castiel keeps staring at his hands, intrigued because he's never seen someone sign like this, but the boy offers no other glimpses of his strange signing and instead lifts one hand. He makes a fist and hits next to the lock in one quick movement. The door swings open, and the stranger smiles at Castiel, closing the door again before signing another word. "Try."

Automatically, Castiel raises his hand and hits the same spot with his fist, and the door swings open again. His hand immediately turns into a gesture of success, and he turns to the other youth. "Thank you, that's very helpful."

The only answer he gets is a thumbs up, and before he can do anything else, another student reaches for the stranger's arm and tugs. "Dean, come on. You promised. I don't want to be late."

Dean rolls his eyes and shrugs apologetically for Castiel before taking off with the other boy. For a moment Castiel stares after him until a familiar face appears, followed by the hands of his friend signing, "Hey Kitten."

"For the last time, Charlie. I'm not the little offspring of a Queen."

She just smiles at him and smoothes both hands through his unruly hair before answering. "Still not so sure about that. Your eyes say blue-blood."

Castiel rolls his eyes and huffs. "They are blue. That's all." Charlie's answer is a weird mixture of raising her hands and crossing her fingers and Castiel shakes his head. "Forget it. I won't learn your role play language."

She starts normally signing again but bites her lips in frustration. "But you would be perfect! You could be my squire, and we can find a ledger in your stuff that makes us think you could be a prince, and then we can to go on a quest to find out what country you would rule!"

Castiel doesn't answer but finally puts his books into the locker while Charlie continues waving about in her language, probably making notes for herself regarding his royal ancestry. It's not that he doesn't get her excitement for stories, after all, he's a bookworm, Cas just doesn't think he'd make a good hero. Without Dean, he wouldn't have been able to open his locker, and he has no special talents to speak of aside from being a good student.

So that's exactly what he sticks to. He closes the locker with a little more force than necessary to make sure it won't open on its own again and turns to Charlie. "Do you have your time sheet?"

She hands it over, and he studies it to check if they have classes together while she taps at his locker. From the corner of his eye, he can see her forming common words again. "Poor Kitten. Shit locker year."

He hands her the piece of paper and shrugs. "It was stuck, but I got it open."

"How?"

"I had help."

"From whom?"

Castiel wants to answer, but it seems strange just to use Dean's name. "He had the locker last year, so he showed me a trick to get it open."

Instead of asking him what the trick was, Charlie scrutinizes the locker. Castiel is sure she just found her first quest of the year. Her next words are proof enough because she's not interested in the locker at all. "What's his name?"

"Another boy called him Dean."

"How do you know him?"

"I don't."

That gives Charlie a little pause, but after a second, she seems to decide that she doesn't want to solve every riddle and takes the easy way out this time by just asking Castiel about Dean. "Then why did he show you the trick?"

"I don't know. I tried to get the locker open, but the door was stuck, and then he was just there and helped me."

Charlie smiles and slightly bounces up and down. That's never a good sign. "When do you see him again?"

"I don't know. He seemed to be our age, but who knows what classes he takes."

Within one second Charlie throws every annoyed gesture in the book at him. "You found a nice guy on the first day of school, and you didn't ask for his number?"

"No."

She waits for more, but Castiel doesn't know what else to say. It's just not his way of doing things and most of the time his thoughts are focused on the classes anyway. Socializing is something he does when he has to, much to Charlie's disappointment. "At least tell me what he looked like."

Castiel ignores the question and hurries through his next words. "We have to go. We have Chemistry and Henriksen is going to kill us if we're late on our first day."

He sets a quick pace and Charlie has a hard time keeping up and continuing her signing. "You didn't answer me. Was he cute?"

It's not exactly a very hard question, but Castiel doesn't know what counts as "cute" in Charlie's book and hadn't paid much attention to Dean's face. Most people manage to sign and still look at each other, but Castiel just watches people's hands more often than not. He's not good with maintaining eye contact, and the way people move their hands is more telling anyway.

Crowley, for example, has a rare gift of giving everything a hidden meaning while Charlie is pretty straight forward, although she unintentionally mixes in references from things she likes. It's subtle, and most people don't even notice it, but Castiel does. His brother Gabriel, on the other hand, is a jerk. He tells you one thing but means the other, and most of the time it's on purpose just to mess with you. Sometimes Castiel wonders if he has such a tell too, but he just tries to sign his intentions very clearly, and teachers often praise him for that.

For Charlie's sake, he still tries to remember the guy – he had looked at him after all, if only a glimpse. He had short hair that grew a little longer on the top. Brown? Dark blond? Castiel isn't good with this. He remembers the boy's eyes, though, how could he not? They were a beautiful green, like trees in spring or emeralds – they were mesmerizing.

Dean's signing had caught his attention, too. It wasn't so much about what he said – although it was a bit weird – but more about how he said it. It seemed like he used the gestures because he had to, but wanted to hide them at the same time. Almost like he was embarrassed, but about what?

Without actually thinking about it, he gives Charlie an answer shortly before they slip into Mr. Henriksen's classroom. "He had beautiful hands."

 

******

 

It's one of those days when Dean hates being himself. He wants to give his brother a handful about his behavior, but as always his hands don't move the way he wants them to, and today Sammy shamelessly uses it to his advantage. While they walk, he gestures furiously in front of Dean's face, but it's too fast and muddled for Dean to understand, and Sammy should know that. On the other hand, it's probably just more rambling about Sam's unfounded fear of his first day in high school. As if Sam would have problems. He's friendly, way smarter than most kids, and unlike Dean, he can sign correctly.

The thought brings Dean back to earlier, to the image that will probably haunt him for the rest of the day. Dark hair, unbelievably blue eyes, and a smile to die for. Dean stops in his tracks because what the hell? Since when does he think in chick-flick? Sam tugs at his arm to get him moving again, and Dean can't help but grin. Must be his brother's influence. Getting all sensitive and shit. It doesn't stop him from thinking about the disheveled boy, though.

He doesn't know the poor kid who inherited his shit locker, but it's possible that he wants to. He looked nice, and he just thanked him without mentioning Dean's shitty sign language. If Dean remembers correctly, that was a first. Not everybody makes fun of him, but people at least ask "what's wrong with him"? Not that there is anything wrong. He's just different, so what? Not normal doesn't equal wrong. He keeps the thought in his head and repeats it like a mantra. He'll need it today.

Although Sammy is the one who just switched from Junior High to High school, it's kind of Dean's first day, too. At least in the regular school. He's had to endure this building since his first year, but he'd been in a particular class for people with signing difficulties, or as too many people like to call them - happers. He always liked the class because it's much easier to accept his problem when everyone else was in the same boat.

Sadly the good times ended in the middle of summer when his parents got informed that there won't be a similar class available next year, or at least not at his school. Usually, there were enough people who could be transferred into the class from surrounding areas to make up a decent sized group, but when a few of his former classmates graduated the number of students in the class dwindled. The state decided to cancel the curriculum in that area, leaving the Winchester family with two options – they either move, or Dean has to go to 'normal' classes.

Sammy and his parents picked option one, and Dean insisted on option two. For a week, they argued about it nonstop, but Dean wouldn't be swayed. They have a good life right where they are, his parents have good jobs, Sammy has his friends who go to school with him and Dean doesn't feel like it's such a sacrifice. After all, he has his fair share of friends here, too. Among them aren't only happers, and it's not easy for Dean to make friends. He sure as hell wasn't prepared to give them up for a different school.

A few years ago it might have bothered him that he was virtually unable to communicate, but now he's content. Sure he looks like an idiot most of the time, but it's not like he can't move his hands. Besides, he has the support of the school. After the not so good news, the school let him take part in a test to evaluate if he was able to attend normal classes and he passed with flying colors. One of the examiners was adamant that it would be a good experience and integrate him better into society. He had a hard time not laughing in her face. As if there was a simple fix so that others would stop excluding him. Good one.

Sam pulls him out of his thoughts by almost ripping his shirt off, and his hands move just as fast as before. "Do you see them? I don't see them."

Dean dutifully looks around because he promised Sam he'd wait with him for his friends. In the last week before school, Sam became convinced that he would look stupid if he showed up alone. When Dean pointed out he would look stupid no matter what it got him one of Sammy's infamous bitchfaces and a lecture from his mom. In the end, they talked him into accompanying his brother and watching Sam's current awkwardness he's glad they did.

Sam walks a circle around him and only stops and mimics his brother's relaxed posture when someone passes by. After five minutes of this Dean can't take it anymore and grabs him by the shoulders. Sammy focuses on his face to read Dean's intention because over the years this form of communication has become much easier for the two of them than Dean's signing attempts. He wants to tell him to relax and that he doesn't need to rely on his old friends, because he's a wonderful person who will make new ones, and anyone who thinks different is an idiot.

What he ends up signing is maybe a little bit less. "Relax. You great. New friends. Soon."

He hates when he looks like Jane just brought him back from the jungle, but Sam's face breaks into a broad smile. "Thank you, Dean."

As if that wasn't enough, he suddenly throws his arms around his brother and hugs the air out of him. He only lets go when Dean forces him to, and for once, Dean is the one to sign first. "Not cool, dude."

If Sam is worried about his image, it might be a good idea not to hug his brother like he can't live without him. Sam just shrugs and raises his hands to object, but his attention is drawn away by the arrival of his friends. Alfie and Ruby walk faster when they see them, and the second they're within arm's reach the big hug fest starts all over again. Dean endures it for about 5 seconds before he pulls Sam aside. Instead of forming the words he points at himself and lets his index and middle finger run over his arm to show Sam he has to go.

Sam nods but suddenly he looks guilty, probably because he forgot about Dean's struggle with the standard classes. Even his gestures get sloppy. "Good luck with your classes!"

Dean shrugs like it's no big deal and tries to sign the next words as accurately as possible. "Don't worry. I had a great teacher."

He's not sure how good he did it, but Sam beams at him and forms the letter "w" with his hands. It doesn't mean anything but they use it inside their family for expressing comfort or pride, and Dean feels a sudden urge just to grab the little sucker and take him to class with him. Instead, he ruffles his shaggy hair and waves at Ruby and Alfie before turning to leave. It's time for his battle now.

Fortunately, he's not alone. When he told Jo, he would have to attend the normal classes she almost kissed him and said how great it would be to bring 'sex on bowlegs' with her. He laughed the comment off. He's pretty much okay with his appearance, but the nickname doesn't agree with him. It just fuels expectations he can't meet as soon as he has to hold a conversation. Jo disagrees with him, but she's not exactly unbiased or in the position to judge his attractiveness, not when they're more like siblings than friends.

Just like the lovely little almost-sister she is, she saved him a spot next to her and waved frantically at him when he enters the classroom. Of course, all heads turn to him the same second. Dean is pretty sure this was Jo's intended effect; she wanted to show him off, and so she did. He tries to smile and not hate her for it. At least now everybody knows how happy Jo Harvelle is to see him, and that's not the worst impression you can make on your first day.

He slips into the seat next to her, and she throws her arms around him and gives him a little peck on the cheek like they'd been separated for years. Makes sense. The last time they saw each other was the evening before, after all. He wants to say as much, but there are still some eyes on them, and he'd rather not destroy the long-lost reunion scene Jo worked up in the first two minutes. Instead, he decides to watch her graceful movements and learns the tale of a redheaded girl she's been into since last year, and about the smile she got from her today.

Dean nods along, chipping in with facial expressions alone and wishes he could deal with something as simple as dating. It shouldn't be a problem for him because he's not shy at all. If he could just sign like everybody else, he'd stand a chance. He could ask out the guy with the blue eyes and the nice smile. Well, for example. Or someone else. Whatever.

 

******

 

The first period wasn't so bad. Dean understood both the teacher, as well as the other students, and he only had to give an answer once. It was short but correct, and could easily be misinterpreted as him just being too lazy to go into detail. Of course, he won't be able to do it like this all year, but he at least deserves an easy start. Keeping up his lucky streak, he immediately walks to the next classroom and finds a seat in the back so that he can keep everybody else in sight while staying away from the teacher.

He doesn't know Mr. Alastair, but he's heard stories and only bad ones. As the guy enters the room and Dean gives him a once over, he can't help thinking that the stories seem fitting. If he had to describe him, it probably would be 'tall' and 'unlikeable'. He probably could have come up with a better description, but he gets distracted when a few more students enter the room.

Two girls walk in first. They're deep in a conversation, so Dean enjoys the view. One girl has cat-like eyes and brown hair that falls in light waves to her shoulders, and the other has long, dark hair and - Dean finds out when she turns her head to him - a very friendly smile. His first instinct is to look away, but she 's already seen him, so he just smiles back, her eyes staying on him just a little bit too long.

He enjoys it while he can because that's pretty much as far as he gets with anyone. While they take their seats, more newcomers waltz in. This group of students holds his attention even more than the girls did because he spots someone he knows. At least kind of. It's blue eyes, nodding along to whatever the guy in front of him is showing him. Dean can't understand it from this angle, especially because the beanpole has a very relaxed way of moving his hands. Before they can finish the conversation, Alastair tells everybody to find their seats.

The tall guy makes one more gesture before he takes the seat next to Dean, which leaves another space in front of him. Blue eyes is about to sit down when he spots him, surprise written all over his face. Dean unintentionally moves his hands and realizes with horror that he just said "Hi!" but his little accident is rewarded with a small smile and a surprising answer of "Hello, Dean."

Fortunately for Dean, he sits down without another word because Dean is only capable of staring at him right now. How the hell does he know his name? He thinks back to this morning and remembers Sam mentioning it, but it was part of his blurry gestures. The guy must be splendid with reading people if he caught that. Maybe that's the reason why he didn't mention Dean's weird attempts?

He releases the thought when Alastair starts the class by checking attendance. Although his movements are very mechanical, he's one of those people Dean hates because he rushes through his words, shortening and sometimes connecting them which, makes it even harder for Dean to understand.

As such, he usually tunes these kinds of signers out, and seconds later Alastair's movements are just a blur in the corner of his eye while he focuses on the guy in front of him.

The label on his shirt is sticking out, and Dean fights the urge to lean forward and tuck it back in. He did that all the time with Sammy and was used to doing so to kids in his old class, as a lot of the people in his 'special' group didn't have any problems with physical contact. A tap on the shoulder or ruffling through hair is so much easier than forming words. But know that he's in the standard classes, he can't do those things anymore.

Dean's finding it hard to keep his hands still, though because the mystery in front of him has lovely hair. It's dark brown, almost black, and looks like it would be very pleasant to the touch. Maybe someone else already had the idea because it's pretty disheveled. When there's movement next to Dean, he almost thinks it's his neighbor acting on the same idea, but he's just correcting Alastair, who seems to have signed his name wrong. Not hard to do when you are called Garth Fitzgerald IV.

Dean mentally pats himself on the back because he understood that and proceeded to stare at the nice hair in front of him, especially the little locks and curls forming behind the ear and the neck where the hair grew out a little too much. He's so distracted he almost misses the name he was waiting for. Castiel Novak. The official name of blue eyes and bed hair.

The name dances through his head, and Dean tries to visualize to write it down, the letters appearing one after the other on Castiel's neck. It doesn't occur to him that he should pay attention when Alastair is far enough along the alphabet to check for the catgirl, Bella Talbot, and just keeps goggling until Alastair repeats the same name twice and Dean realizes it's his. He lifts his hand to show that he's there and is met with a death stare from Alastair.

Slowly he takes down his hand, and the man checks him off on his list before moving his hands again. "This isn't kindergarten, Mr. Winchester. I suggest you answer properly when I ask you something. I asked if you're here. Are you?"

"Yes, sir."

Dean swallows a lump in his throat because he may have overdone it a little with his military tone, but Alastair seems pleased and continues onto math. He's sure a lot of people hate the subject, but he always loved any form of calculating. It's pure logic and numbers are so much easier than words.

He gets more comfortable by the minute, and as opposed to the other students he's pleased with Alastair's order to complete an exercise on their own. While there's a lot of shuffling of feet and pulling of hair, Dean starts scratching down numbers and doesn't stop until he's done. He purposefully puts down the whole calculation process, although he normally just does it in his head, and still finishes much earlier than his classmates.

Maybe he shouldn't be so pleased with himself, but he can't help it. He might not be good with his hands, but no one can beat his mind. He's so drunk on his success that he doesn't remember where he is and how careful he should be. When most of the other students are finally done, Alastair turns to Dean with a small smile, anticipating failure. "Mr. Winchester, give us your result and how you calculated it."

Even in his special class, Dean hated questions where he had to explain himself, but he's so sure of his answer he just starts signing. Two sentences in his confidence wavers. Alastair's smile becomes wider while the other students furrow their brows or look at each other, incomprehension is written on their faces.

The only one who just seems to take in his answer is Castiel. He's turned in his seat and watching Dean's hand like he's enjoying a good book, and when Dean gets too self-conscious and stops, Castiel looks up at him and tilts his head to one side, clearly waiting for more words. Dean tries not to look at him while Alastair moves closer, his eyes glistening with satisfaction. "Let's try that again, Mr. Winchester. But first, get up."

Dean follows the order and starts again, but his answer just gets worse. Even while signing he can see that he's practically uttering bullshit, but sadly that's not enough to change it. Alastair's face splits into a grin. "I told you, this isn't kindergarten. Do it again."

For a moment, Dean is tempted just to leave. He doesn't need to do this. He has a wonderful family at home who would still support him even if he fucks this up. They can move, and he can go to a different school. While he keeps weighing his options, Alastair is gesturing sharply in front of him as he moves closer. "Again."

Just go. Go now. The thought pounds over and over in his head, and he's about to move when he looks at Castiel again, and those damn blue eyes just watch him. Just waiting, without judgment or malice. Like Sammy or his parents would look at him. Dean swallows and his body feels too hot; like he's catching a fever. He starts over, but Alastair interrupts him two words into the sentence. "No. Again."

Dean takes a deep breath and tries very hard to ignore all the other eyes on him, but he can feel himself losing control of his hands. He's shaking and feels tears fighting their way to his eyes, but Alastair seems to be letting him translate his whole answer this time until he's about to sign his last words. While shaking his head, the man moves closer and sneers at him. "In all my years here I've never seen such a failure. It's like you don't even try."

He wants to say more, but Dean can't see him. Instead, he's looking at dark hair with little curls. Suddenly Castiel stands between Alastair and him; his head held high and shoulders squared. Dean can't see what Castiel is signing in front of his chest, but whatever it is makes Alastair's smile drop and leaves the other students wide-eyed in disbelief. When Castiel's hands drop to his sides, the tension is so palpable that it hurts.

Alastair's nostrils flare and his hands shoot up so high that even Dean can see them. He moves harsh and quickly through the words and the only thing Dean understands is 'principal'. Without arguing, Castiel slowly packs his bag and leaves. Dean is sure he's going to be next, but Alastair just tells him to sit down and strides to the blackboard to write down another exercise.

This time, it takes Dean just as long as the other students to finish. He's still too shaken up to concentrate, and he hates that Castiel got in trouble because of him. When the bell rings, Alastair is the first to get up and leave the room, and Dean turns to Garth before he can vanish as well. "What he say?"

Garth watches his hands with a clear question on his face and Dean nods to the seat in front of him and then to the teacher's table. "I couldn't see."

Garth stops packing his stuff to answer him. "Castiel told him your reply was totally fine, and Alastair should think again about being a teacher if he can't read some simple signs." Dean stares at him in disbelief, so Garth continues. "Hey, you're cool. Alastair is just mean. Don't mind him."

Dean nods and finally manages to move his hands again. "Sure, thanks."

Garth gives him another nod and a reassuring smile before he finishes packing and exits the class, leaving Dean to realize he's alone in the classroom and late to meet up with Jo. He crams his stuff into his bag and storms out into the crowd while trying to form one particular word, but as so often in his life, his hands fail him. Why can't the guy be called Carl or Mike? Why does it have to be Castiel?

 

******

 

Castiel walks into the school office and up to the secretary. "I need to talk to principal Moseley, please."

She looks him up and down and adjusts her glasses before answering. "I'm fairly sure you should be in class right now."

"Yes, I should, but Mr. Alastair sent me here."

"Do you have a note?"

"No, I just need to report that I disturbed his class so I can get lectured about it."

The secretary tries very hard to hide her smile and gets up from her chair. "So not a first-timer then, are you?"

He shakes his head, and she waves him over to the open door of the principal's office. "Sorry Missouri, but I already have your first troublemaker of the year."

Castiel walks in and sits down in front of a massive wooden desk. The secretary closes the door behind him, and he's faced by a slightly annoyed Miss Moseley. "What is it this time, Castiel? Has someone called one of the freshmen a bad name again?"

He probably should take offense that she mocks his attempts to teach some idiots not to harass people, but he knows she doesn't mean it in a bad way. It's just that he had to visit her almost every day by the end of last year. Maybe she hoped it would get better this year, and Castiel could be sad that he has to disappoint her but what he did was okay, and he wouldn't apologize for it. "Mr. Alastair harassed one of his students and didn't like my objection."

Miss Moseley takes a deep breath, and her fingers tap on the desk before she signs again. "Which student?"

"Dean Winchester."

There's recognition in her eyes, and Castiel is glad she's taking him seriously for once. "What did he do to Mr. Winchester?"

"He made him answer the same question over and over again although he answered it correctly the first time, simply to embarrass him."

"And you understood the answer?"

"Of course."

"The first time? Without any problems?"

Although he understands her implication, Castiel can't help but frown at her. "Yes, he has a different way of signing things, but that doesn't make him less intelligent or the answer incorrect. If Mr. Alastair is unable to comprehend three simple sentences, he probably should consider a career change."

Miss Moseley shakes her head with a little smile. "Let me guess. You used similar words in front of your teacher?"

Castiel knows he shouldn't have done that, but sometimes he just goes a little over the top when he's angry. "Maybe I did."

There are more head shaking and table tapping, and finally, Miss Moseley answers with a frown of her own. "Listen Castiel, I know you mean well, but you can't do those things. There are boundaries. Telling your teacher to get the hell out could be defined as overstepping one of those boundaries, and I can't protect you from the consequences when you keep showing up here."

Castiel wants to object, but she holds her hand up over his to stop him and continues. "In this case, you're right, but it's not your place to act on it. I will talk to Mr. Alastair and sort this out to make sure he will look for a better approach in the future. If you ever feel like he's harassing someone again, you let me know. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good, then you're free to go."

He stands up and wants to leave but turns around one more time. "Thank you, Miss Moseley."

This time, her smile is genuine and her signs become more fluid and warm. "You are very welcome, Castiel. I admire that you try to defend others in need and I don't want you to lose this quality, but there are several ways of winning the same battle and sometimes only one of them is a smart option."

 

******

 

While strolling along the empty corridor, Castiel thinks about her words. It seems to be valuable advice but in his head he replays the scene in his head about how Alastair treated Dean, and Castiel is sure he would do the same thing again. The thought makes him quicken his pace. Who knows what Alastair did after Castiel left? He doesn't reach the classroom before the bell rings, though, so he turns another corner and walks to his locker.

There's a short break between classes, and he uses the time to change his books. When his fist hits the locker door, he thinks about Dean again. Especially his hand movements. Alastair was wrong; Dean didn't sign like a child at all, but very purposefully, only using the words he needed. That might not be common, but that doesn't make it wrong. In fact, it could be very useful in particular situations.

The only thing Castiel can't understand is why Dean signs like this. He heard about people who can't sign at all or do it so bad that they have to take special classes to communicate at all, but Dean seems to be pretty smart. Castiel could hear him scribble behind him, his pen never stopping, and he mastered the exercise in minutes while Castiel still tried to figure out what he was supposed to do.

Granted, he's not exactly good with math, but he can manage. Compared to him, Dean must be a genius. Castiel throws his locker shut and walks to his next class, a little hope blooming in him that Dean will be there as well. He made Castiel curious, and anything out of the ordinary is always welcome with him.

While most people enjoy their brakes till the last minute, Castiel is the first one in the room, and although he usually doesn't care very much where he sits, he picks a table in the back. They have to share a table in this classroom and if he can get Dean to sit with him, he might be able to talk to him. Unfortunately, his plan gets disrupted when Dean enters the room a few minutes later with a beautiful blond girl, shaking his head at her as she bumps shoulders with him and laughs. Castiel almost regrets sitting in the back now, but Dean and the girl make their way through the classroom and suddenly very green eyes are looking down on him. Reflexively, Castiel signs "Hi." and Dean grins at him because it's the same thing he did in their previous class.

To make it even worse, Dean sits down next to him and starts the conversation. "I'm sorry." Castiel isn't sure what he's talking about, so he just shrugs his shoulders, and Dean presses his lips together for a moment. Sure. He's not eager to explain himself, but he tries. "About Alastair."

The way Dean's fingers form the name makes it pretty clear how he thinks about the man, but Castiel just shrugs again. "Don't worry. I'd rather spend time in principal Moseley's office than listen to that maladroit, vicious assbutt."

For a moment, Dean looks puzzled, and his fingers try to copy Castiel's last word. "Ass butt?"

Castiel nods. "Yeah, that's what he is. Or what would you call him?"

Dean repeats the word three times and stops his hands for a few seconds before he talks again. "Assbutt. I like it. It fits."

He grins, and in the same moment Castiel decides to look at his face instead of his hands, Dean does the same. They practically stare at each other for a moment, and it should be awkward, but Castiel can't look away. First of all, Dean's eyes are just very pleasant to gaze into and second, his delight about the insult make them shine even more. And his eyes talk. It's one of the weirdest thoughts Castiel has ever had, but he feels like Dean is trying to communicate with him just like this.

Castiel is about to ask what he wants when Dean finally looks away to watch his hands while he signs. "Still, thank you."

"You're welcome."

There's another little pause where they look at each other, and Castiel considers asking Dean about his way of signing but gets distracted by the commotion around them of people finding their seats and he realizes that their teacher arrived. At least they wouldn't have to worry about him. Balthazar Roché's hand signals were way worse than Dean's. He has a habit of switching the language in mid-sentence, and his wording can be quite ancient or dives deep into slang.

When Dean sees him, he turns away from Castiel, probably to find his blond beauty again, but she's already sitting with someone else. Discomfort radiates out of him, and Castiel slightly taps his shoulder until he's the focus of that wonderful green again. "It's okay if you sit here. You can show me what I missed?"

He doesn't plan to make it a question, but his shoulders just slowly move upwards and Dean nods. "Sure." For a second, he looks pleased with himself, but then his face falls, and he stares at his hands in frustration. "Just not good. You know? With many words."

Castiel doesn't know why but a little flame ignites in him. Dean is obviously a nice person, and he shouldn't feel bad because of an idiot like Alastair, so he tries to cheer him up. "Good thing then that you're perfect with fewer words."

It works. Dean beams at him and without another word he gets a pad out of his backpack and shows Castiel the math exercises. There's another surprise right there. Dean might have problems with his hands when he has to sign words, but his handwriting is almost perfect. Castiel has never seen such neat numbers. “You have an exquisite handwriting.“

Dean flushes furiously and for a moment, he looks like he wants to hide the paper under his hands. Castiel purposefully turns away to get his pad and shoves it slowly over to Dean, still averting his eyes. “See? My numbers always seem to be engaged in a battle. The same battle I fight against math.“

Dean doesn't answer, and Castiel can't stand the silence any longer. He watches Dean again and for the first time, he notices the vast amount of freckles framing the other boy's face. They are underlined by the reddened skin, and Castiel eyes only travel away from them and down to Dean's lips because there's another smirk appearing. “Seems you lose.“

Castiel tries to concentrate on the matter of math again because counting freckles probably won't help him with his next test. “How do I win?“

Dean takes out a pen and defaces Castiel's whole exercise. He doesn't sign one word, but draws little circles, lines, and arrows on the page, pokes at specific numbers for a moment, and underlines certain parts so they would stand out to Castiel. It's the weirdest way someone ever explained something to him, but suddenly it makes so much sense.

When Dean is done with the first exercise, he just copies down the second one for Castiel and shoves the paper back to him with a smile. “Simple. If you know how. Understood?“

He raises his eyebrows in question and Castiel can't stop smiling. He battled this stuff the whole holiday in the hopes of getting it right before school starts again and was unsuccessful. But now it just clicked, and he feels a heavy weight fall off of him. “You're brilliant, Dean!“

Dean's cheeks turn red again, but his eyes sparkle in amusement. At least until hands appear between them. “I don't want to interfere with your ménage à deux, but I'd very much appreciate if you two lovebirds could pay attention to my class.“

Castiel and Dean automatically lean away from each other and Balthazar studies the papers between them. “Seriously, boys? Math? In my classroom? Put that away and get to work.“

Both Castiel and Dean stare at him quizzically, having trouble understanding what he signed since he flourished his answer so fiercely that even Castiel has a hard time understanding, but he still nods. “Sure, Mr. Roché.“

“And call me Balthazar, for heaven's sake!“ He turns around dramatically, still gesturing, but Castiel only watches him out of the corner of his eye because he's just ranting about his horrible, horrible students. After a moment, Dean taps him on the shoulder. “What does he want?“

Castiel makes sure there's nothing important coming from Balthazar and returns his undivided attention to Dean. “He wants us to imagine a world in which the Titanic didn't sink.“

Dean watched his hands very carefully, and Castiel is sure he signed his answer pretty clearly, but Dean still frowns. “What? Why?“

For once Castiel just shrugs, because most of the times that's the best answer to any of Balthazar's weird requests, and Dean leans back in his chair. “Guess there wouldn't be a movie about it.“

“You watched Titanic?“ Castiel didn't want it to come out as such an accusation, but Dean just doesn't look like a fan of romantic movies.

“I'm not into chick-flicks, but DiCaprio is still a damn good actor.“

Castiel can't help but stare at Dean because that was the most fluid sentence he showed all day and on top of it, he's right. “Yes, he should have gotten that Oscar so long ago.“

That's probably the best thing he signed today too, because Dean turns to him, his hands moving and his face the depiction of excitement. Castiel knows he should never sign this out visibly, but at that moment, Dean is one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen.

 

******

 

The rest of the period is probably the weirdest one Dean has ever attended. They don't care for their given task, but discuss movies and TV shows instead, and Dean learns with horror that Castiel has never seen Star Wars. Dean only lets this one slide because Castiel translates to him what Balthazar communicates in his overly dramatic way.

He also forgives him for not knowing all song lyrics from Metallica by heart when Balthazar picks them to present their idea. Dean is already forming an excuse in his head when Castiel's hands move next to him. He spins a tale of epical proportions, and Dean understands why he might not be so good with math. He obviously has a gift for words, and any more than that wouldn't be fair.

Even Balthazar buys into it and gives Dean an appreciative nod before the bell finally ends the class. Most of the other students jump to their feet and rush out of the room, but Dean can't help but stare at Castiel, who started to put away his things slowly.

Dean waits till he's done, already forming the words next to his body without holding his hands up, so they wouldn't get all scrambled again when he wants to show them to Castiel. The dark-haired boy shoulders his backpack, automatically looking at Dean when he gets to his feet, and Dean jumps up as well, rushing through the words. „You're some kind of guardian angel?“

Castiel frowns, his head tilting to the side like a puppy, and for a few seconds, his hands just won't move. It's adorable. Dean feels the need to clarify what he meant. „You saved my ass twice today. Should get even.“

He earns himself a smile, but Castiel shakes his head. “You clarified a math problem I was struggling with for almost a year. I'm the one in debt.“

“You could buy me a thank you dinner.“ His hands seem to move of their accord, which is freaking fascinating when you consider he's a happer, but the fact that Castiel understands him furthers his need to tell immediately what he thinks. Still, he tries to come up with something that will make it sound less like a date. “Cafeteria?“

Castiel has no time to answer before arms wrap around Dean from behind, and Jo presses her face against his while signing in front of him. “Did I see Cafeteria? I'm in. I'm starving.“

Dean rolls his eyes and has a hard time even signing the next words with a person clinging to him like that. “Lemme get my shit.“

Jo finally lets go and walks around to watch him, confused by his signing. “What?“ Like an answer to her question, Castiel hands Dean his pad, who shoves it into his backpack as Jo turns to Castiel. “You understood that?“

Aside from his family, Jo is the only person allowed to talk about his disability like this. When Castiel gives Dean his pen next, he can't help but smile. “He gets everything. It's creepy.“

Jo smiles and her attention shifts to Castiel. “I'm sorry, sometimes I can be pretty rude. My mom would kill me. You're Castiel, right? I think we had some classes together last year. I'm Jo.“

Castiel shakes her offered hand and for a moment, Dean regrets not introducing himself like this. “I know. Your murderous mother owns the 'Roadhouse'. I like the burgers.“

“Oh good, I'll tell her she has a fan.“

Castiel just nods, and when he ducks away to get his backpack, Jo shoots Dean a not very subtle look. He has a hard time understanding her hands, but those eyes were telling stories. Right now she said something along the lines of “Did you hear that? He likes burgers, too. And he's cute and kind. When is the wedding? Don't look at me like that Dean Winchester, you so gonna ask him out.“

Fortunately, there's no chance she can sign that without Castiel seeing it, so he just shoves her into the general direction of the door and makes sure Castiel follows them.

On the way to the Cafeteria Jo and Castiel talk about the classes they had together and the teachers they'll hate forever and Dean should feel left out, but for the moment, he's just happy. This whole signing thing is going to be hard on him, but he still has Jo, he found Castiel, who is inhumanly kind, that Garth kid seems nice, and that other girl smiled at him. Not such a bad first day after all.

It gets even better when they arrive at the cafeteria. When they get in a line like little ducks to get their food, Dean decides to get fries. His mom always nags him to eat healthy food, even while at school, but unlike his little rabbit brother he just needs something solid from time to time. And he deserves a treat for that weird first day of school.

When they walk to their table, he can already taste the salt on his tongue and doesn't pay much attention to his surroundings until this one specific moment in time. You read about them in books and see them in movies, but they never happen in real life.

Dean puts down his tray and out of the corner of his eyes, he realizes Castiel is next to him, doing the same. Nothing special. Until there is warmth at his hand where there shouldn't be. For a moment, he's frozen, and everything afterward happens in slow-motion. He can see himself letting go of his tray, moving his hand upwards while Castiel puts his tray on the table, his hand just so slightly brushing along Dean's.

Every idiot would know it's not on purpose. Hell, nobody would even think about it. It's not even a real touch, but for Dean, it's one of those moments when the world shifts a little and everything that made sense before is gone. Unfortunately, the little jolt in his stomach doesn't help him to get things in order again. He sits down next to Castiel and instead of calculating how many inches there are between them, he tries to will himself back into the real world.

Jo is still talking, only God and maybe Castiel know about what, but suddenly her hands stop, and she shoves his tray a little. “You okay?“

Before he can answer, Castiel gets to his feet and reaches for his tray. A feeling of loss and fear rushes through Dean, so intense he forgets to think about what he's signing before actually doing it. “Where you go?“

Castiel points to the other end of the cafeteria. “I saw my friend. I promised her we'd meet there.“

Jo turns around, searching the crowd, but there are just too many people to know who Castiel means. “Just bring them here. We don't bite.“

Castiel turns to Dean, who nods vigorously. He doesn't mind other people, and if this will get Castiel to keep sitting next to him, he'd even endure Alastair at his table. Castiel leaves his tray, and reassured that he'll come back, Dean finally manages to eat some of his fries.

At least until Jo hits him. “I can't believe it. It's her.“

Dean tries to look in the same direction she is and finds Castiel next to a red haired girl. If feels like he saw her this morning when Sammy dragged him along the corridor, but still doesn't know her. “Her who?“

“The girl I told you about.“

Still stuffing himself with fries, Dean thinks back to their first period and remembers Jo's rhapsody. She's right about one thing; the girl is cute. So cute the thought suffocates him, and he has a hard time swallowing his last bite of fries. Castiel smiles at the girl while she uses some very obscure signs, and Dean pushes his food away. He lost his appetite and reached over to tap Jo on the shoulder. “Maybe his girlfriend?“

She gives him a questioning look. “You don't know his relationship status?“

Dean rolls his eyes at her. “Didn't come up.“

When Jo watches the distant couple again, Dean starts to hate himself, because by mentioning that he just took a massive dump on Jo's feelings, too. Fortunately for him, Jo doesn't care. “I don't think they are a couple. My guess would be friends for a few years.“

Dean wants to ask her how the hell she could get to such a conclusion, but they are on their way back to the table, and there's no way Dean can get the words in. When they arrive, Castiel takes his place next to him again, and his friend plops down at the bench next to Jo like they have known each other for years. “Can't this day be over already? I have a character backstory to plot out.“

Castiel doesn't answer her but points at Dean and Jo. “How about you enjoy your break with friendly people? That's Dean, who apparently is as enthusiastic about Star Wars as you are, and his friend Jo. Guys, this is Charlie.“

Said Charlie tries to sit up a little straighter and looks Dean up and down. “Star Wars, huh? I will have to see how much of a fan you are.“

At first, she looks like she's going to make good on that promise right away, but then her eyes wander over to Jo, and she smiles with visible delight. “Well, I know you, gorgeous. But I'm still trying to figure out which elfin-woods you escaped from.“

Dean has seen Jo hit guys in the face for less, but now she's blushing a little and rolls her eyes. “Shut up.“

Of course, Charlie doesn't, and in seconds they're caught up in a conversation Dean can't follow. Instead, he looks around the cafeteria and glances at Castiel from time to time, who finally started to eat. At least that confirms Jo's theory. Dean is pretty sure Castiel wouldn't be pleased with his girlfriend hitting on Jo and just sit there and watch them flirt with each other.

Now he only has to figure out why this makes him feel better and why it's so delightful for him to watch Castiel happily eating his stupid pudding. He's so caught up in his thought he forgets to look away, and suddenly Castiel is looking at him and holding up his spoon. “You want to try?“

He just opens his mouth and realizes too late that he just allowed another guy to feed him in the middle of the cafeteria. Still, he tries to savor the taste for a moment before he swallows and nods at Castiel's questioning face. “Yummy.“

Castiel smiles, and the whole thing gets even worse because he just keeps eating. With the same spoon, Dean just slobbered all over. Before Dean can stomach the fact that Castiel doesn't mind his saliva, he gets offered another spoon full of pudding. Which he eats, of course. And then they just proceed to share the damn pudding like an old married couple in their nursing home.

For once Dean is happy about the sound of the bell because he doesn't have to find a way out of this somewhat weird situation. He gets the last spoon before they get up, and Castiel takes back their trays while Charlie and Jo stroll out of the cafeteria, still deep in conversation.

Dean waits for Castiel at the door, and they just move along to their next class in silence. Castiel doesn't seem to be the talkative type, and Dean is all too happy to shut up as well. There's too much stuff in his head he needs to figure out anyway. For example, what just happened.

You don't share a pudding with a guy you just met. Your brain doesn't stop working because someone brushes your hand. You don't walk around school with a stranger like you've been besties for years. You just don't. But they did. And the weirdest part about it is that it doesn't feel as weird to Dean as it probably should, it felt normal.

Dean isn't used to normal. Even if his family tried to make him feel good about it, he has always been an outsider. Different. Not normal. He always had to adjust, get special treatment, and do things his way. Some people might think it's nice not to be like everybody else, but it's one thing if you chose to be different and a whole other thing if you're forced to be.

His entire life Dean felt like that weird piece of a puzzle that seems to fit everywhere, but when you take a closer look, it doesn't. And in the end, it's just left over, and you don't know what to do with it.

Dean is torn from the thought when Castiel bumps into him. They're making their way through a narrow corridor which is so crowded with students their shoulders constantly brush against each other. But again, it doesn't feel weird. It's normal. Like two puzzle pieces belonging together.

Dean can't help but smile until Castiel watches him with a frown. “What's so funny?“

“Day is over soon. Just glad.“ His signs get even worse when he's lying, but Castiel just nods. “Yes. It takes a little time to get used to the schedule again.“

They finally arrive at their destination, and Dean is surprised about the empty classroom until Castiel points at a piece of paper at the door. “Seems your day ends even earlier. The teacher is sick. We can go home now.“

Normally Dean would have been out of the door in seconds, but despite his love for free time, it seems a little weird to just leave Castiel behind. “You go home?“

“Not right away. I need to return some books to the library and wanted to borrow another one.“

For Dean, the sentence has 'boring' written all over it, and still his hands tell something else. “Can I come with? I'll have to wait for my brother anyway.“

 

******

 

Of course, Castiel didn't mind. Instead of movies and TV shows they talked about books and Castiel started a list with stuff Dean has to read. Hardly two steps into the library he found one of the books and forced it on Dean, who stuffed it into his bag although he has no idea what for. It's not like he can have a lengthy discussion about it afterward.

It's easier with movies because he can just imitate scenes to show what he means, but how is he supposed to talk about a scene everybody creates in their heads? Still he can't refuse, and promises Castiel to read this and several other books until they end up in front of the school where he wants to wait for Sammy.

While Castiel fights with his book-stuffed backpack, Dean struggles with his mind again. He doesn't want to end the day with a lame 'see you tomorrow', and what bothers him, even more, is Castiel's stupid name. They spent almost the whole day together, and Dean couldn't even tell someone about it because he can't for the life of him sign the damn name.

Castiel puts down the bag in frustration and attempts to open it to rearrange the books, but Dean steals his attention. “Can I ask you something?“

Castiel gives the bag another distasteful look before he turns to Dean. “Sure.“

Maybe Dean should have thought this through, but now it's too late, and if he learned one thing in his special class it's that he should never be embarrassed about his condition. "I like your name, but it's hard. So stupid to talk without the name. Can you show me?“

The explanation sounded so much better in his head and came out all wrong again, but Castiel doesn't even answer the question. He just signs his name. First in the usual way and then much slower. Dean smiles, because now he has at least something to go on, and he might be able to reconstruct it at home. "Thank you.“

Castiel doesn't answer, but smiles at him and signs his name again, before adding one other word. “Try.“

It transports Dean back to this morning, when this incredible day started, and he hopes that Castiel doesn't remember the exact words he used in their first conversation. Still he follows the order and moves his hands. Like before, he utterly fails, but Castiel just keeps repeating it and Dean tries to copy him until Castiel suddenly shakes his head. “Let's try differently.“

He positions himself next to Dean, their shoulders touching again and gestures for him to try it. Dean starts but fails and when he repeats the movement, Castiel grabs his hands and holds them still. “There. Always at the same position. Try again?“

Dean starts over, and when he gets to his failing point, Castiel's slender fingers interfere with his own and he positions them in the correct way. He forces Dean through the whole name like this and even has to do it a few more times because the touch makes Dean totally lose his shit, and his signing gets even worse than before.

After twenty or so tries, Dean is pretty sure he has an angel beside him, because otherwise he just couldn't have the patience of a saint. Castiel doesn't rebuke him once but shows him where exactly he goes wrong and how to do it right.

After a while, he corrects him less and less, and although it takes a lot of effort, Dean manages to do one perfect try on his own and puts a smile on Castiel's face. “I guess you hate my parents now.“

Dean shakes his head, but stretches his hands and massages his fingers, before answering. “Your name is not the problem, but can I call you Cas?“

He feels dumb for asking, but Castiel's face lights up, and he nods. “Can you believe you're the first one to come up with that idea?“

Dean shrugs his shoulders and realizes one of them is still brushing against Cas's, comforting him and giving him the strength to bring something up that he'd rather keep silent. “Normal people can just say your name.“

They are both silent for a moment, but then Castiel moves in front of him and waits till Dean looks at him. “Dean, I had a fantastic day, and I loved it. It will stay with me for quite some time. Do you think I would remember a normal one?“

As if to underline his words, he puts his hand on Dean's shoulder, his fingers gripping tight like he needs to leave a mark, and starring into Dean's eyes to let his words sink in. It works. There's this warm feeling deep inside of him, and for once Dean accepts the idea that being special can be a good thing.

By now Dean would like to believe that Castiel could read this change of heart on his face because he lets go of him and waves a little goodbye. “See you tomorrow."

Dean just nods and watches Cas until he turns the next corner, a small smile slowly fighting its way on his face. Finally, he understands that his way of signing is just a small part of him, and it shouldn't define his whole life. He can care about other things, too. Like Jo and Cas.

He gets the dating problem now because he's in the same predicament. In just one day he managed to develop a damn big crush on a guy with a weird name. Slowly Dean moves his hands, perfectly forming one particular word.

Castiel.


End file.
